


Fitted

by thirsty



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Frottage, M/M, Nipple Play, Suit AU, aka an excuse for Mikleo to take Sorey's measurements, and also an excuse for them to undress each other uh I mean what
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-03-06 09:07:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13407978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thirsty/pseuds/thirsty
Summary: Mikleo doesn’t know whether to feel proud of how good his creation looks, or intimidated by how dangerously attractive Sorey is in it.AU where Mikleo is a tailor at a high-end suit store, and Sorey is his most recent customer.





	Fitted

The Heldalf family manor is large, bright, and filled with people. Even in his grey suit vest and fitted jacket, Mikleo feels extremely out of place amidst the affluent crowd, and he finds himself anxiously adjusting his shirt cuffs beneath his sleeves while walking through the halls in search of a familiar face.

He knows he doesn’t belong here. This is a party meant for Georg Heldalf’s investors and colleagues, and  _ certainly _ no place for his son’s tailor. But if there’s one thing Mikleo has learned after months of fitting Sorey, it’s that it’s impossible to say no to him, especially when he uses  _ those _ eyes and  _ that _ tone of voice.

_ ‘Please, Mikleo? I’ll be more comfortable if you’re with me.’  _ Sorey’s words, warm and hopeful, still drift through Mikleo’s mind, and he shakes his head to chase them away. Instead, he drifts towards a corner, plucking a champagne flute off of a nearby waiter’s tray and leaning against the wall. It’s easier for him to search for Sorey from a distance than it is from within the crowd.

However, he doesn’t have to search for too long. A quick shout of his name makes Mikleo glance up towards the winding staircase, where he sees Sorey walking downstairs, his own glass of champagne in his hand.

“Did you just get here?” he asks, eyes and smile as dazzling as ever. Mikleo nods slowly, trying not to let his gaze linger too long—the outfit he put together for the occasion looks absolutely perfect on Sorey, from the structured navy suit he spent weeks on, to the violet tie carefully tucked behind his single breasted jacket. Mikleo doesn’t know whether to feel proud of how good his creation looks, or intimidated by how dangerously attractive Sorey is in it, and so he hides his conflict by taking a sip of champagne from his glass.

“There are more people here than I’d expected,” he replies as smoothly as he can manage.

To his delight, Sorey laughs in response. “Yeah, I agree,” he says lightly. “I swear, my dad knows way too many people. I don’t recognize anyone here.”

Mikleo’s lips quirk upwards. “Now I know why you were so keen on having a familiar face around.”

“Thanks so much for coming,” Sorey adds, taking a sip from his own glass, his expression visibly relieved. “Seriously, I already feel much better now that you’re here.”

Mikleo tries to hide the way his heart swells at that comment. “It’s my pleasure,” he says politely instead. “Thanks for having me.”

They stand there in silence for a while, watching the crowd side-by-side. Mikleo idly sips his champagne, placing his empty glass on a nearby table when he sees Sorey doing the same. He crosses his arms across his chest and continues to observe, until Sorey suddenly places a hand on his shoulder. It’s warm, and he can feel the weight of his fingers even through three layers of fabric.

“Hey, do you wanna go upstairs?” Sorey offers, fingers curling around his shoulder almost protectively. “It’s pretty crowded down here, and my dad has a huge collection of suits you might be interested in looking at.”

At that, Mikleo visibly brightens up, turning to meet Sorey’s gaze. “Is that really okay?”

Sorey laughs again. “I’m sure he won’t mind,” he says, letting go only to take Mikleo by the arm instead. “Come on, let's go.”

* * *

Georg Heldalf’s closet is massive. It’s larger than Mikleo’s entire apartment, probably, and filled to the brim with suits of every possible style and colour. Mikleo can’t help but ogle at the collection, his fingers trembling as he reaches towards a jacket to examine it.

“This...these are all custom-made,” he breathes, turning the coat inside-out. “It’s unlined, and the stitching is so detailed. Where did your father get these made?”

Sorey shrugs. “I wish I knew. He’s always away on trips, and I never know where he buys any of his clothes. That’s why I didn’t ask him for advice before I came to your store.”

“I remember. It was an impulse visit.”

“And I’ll never regret it!” Sorey throws his arms out. “This is the nicest outfit I’ve ever owned, and it’s all thanks to you, Mikleo.”

“You paid for it,” Mikleo counters, smiling faintly. “But as expected, it does look great on you. I did a pretty good job.”

“You did an amazing job!” Sorey agrees, flexing his arm as if to prove it, and it’s  _ extremely _ hard for Mikleo not to notice the way the fabric of the jacket accentuates Sorey’s biceps. Maybe he did  _ too  _ good a job.

“I have pretty bad taste in clothes, honestly,” Sorey continues. “I was wondering if you could help me organize my closet sometime? It’s not full of suits or anything, but—”

“I’d love to,” Mikleo cuts in. “I mean, it’s not every day you get to dress the son of an affluent businessman, right?”

Sorey gives him a smile. “You might be getting more than you bargained for. I’m not an easy person to dress.”

Mikleo can sense the challenge behind those words. Feeling bold, he takes a few steps closer until they’re merely inches apart. “I did it once, and I can do it again,” he says, voice low as he reaches up to smooth down the lapels on Sorey’s coat, hands lingering against his chest. “Trust me, I know exactly what I signed up for. Do you?”

He does not miss the way Sorey’s eyes quickly roam over his body in response, nor the way the brunet swallows thickly when their eyes meet next. “Definitely,” he breathes into the space between them. “Without a doubt.”

Mikleo smiles again. “Then, shall we?” he adds, gesturing towards the door.

Sorey simply nods and takes his arm once again, this time with purpose, and leads them out of the room and into his own.

* * *

Even though he is fully clothed, Sorey feels naked beneath Mikleo’s gaze. He can feel Mikleo’s eyes slowly tracing every inch of his body, and it’s not unlike the day they first met. Back then, his violet eyes had been analytical, the process of studying the dips and curves a necessity for him to complete his next project. Now, however, there is a more primal urge burning behind those eyes, and Sorey wants nothing more than to be the one to satisfy it.

He already has Mikleo’s eyes on him, but it isn’t enough—he wants to feel those slender hands against his skin, tracing paths along the places his gaze has lingered.

“Loosen up,” Mikleo sighs suddenly, and Sorey sucks in a quick breath, trying to calm his raging heart (amongst other things). “It’s just me, Sorey, you don’t have to be so tense.”

_ ‘I’m tense  _ _ because _ _ it’s you,’ _ he wants to say, but holds back in favour of letting his shoulders slump instead. Mikleo walks towards him, eyes still burning with the same need, and places his hands against Sorey’s jacket buttons.

“Do you need help?” Sorey can’t help but ask.

Mikleo looks up at him through heavily lidded eyes, smiling faintly. “I designed this outfit for you to put on,” he says softly. “It’s only fair that I know best how to take it off.”

He swallows. Mikleo begins to unbutton his jacket, letting it hang at his sides before reaching up to loosen his tie. “Is this the tie I tied for you at the store?” he asks, tilting his head slightly. “You didn’t bother redoing it?”

Sorey shrugs. “It looked good back then,” he admits. “I thought I’d leave it as-is.”

He freezes when Mikleo slips his hands under the jacket and carefully slides it off his shoulders. He lifts his arms and allows Mikleo to pull it off him, revealing the white shirt and black suspenders underneath. The silver-haired man heaves a soft sigh.

“You really had to have the suspenders, didn’t you? Couldn’t settle for a belt?”

“I think they look cool!” Sorey argues. “Don’t you think so too?”

Mikleo scrunches up his nose. “Cool isn’t the word I’d use,” he admits, smoothing out the jacket in his hands and taking it over to Sorey’s closet. “But on you, I’d say they look almost charming.”

“Hey, I’ll take any compliment I can get.”

“Is that so?” Mikleo places the jacket on a hanger and shrugs off his own jacket, hanging it right next to Sorey’s. “Let’s see if you can get any more out of me tonight.”

Sorey’s stomach does a small flip at the thought of Mikleo’s voice, breathy and laced with longing. He can feel the tightness in his pants, and he knows that Mikleo notices it too with the way his eyebrow quirks upwards in amusement at the sight. It’s embarrassing, but before Sorey can make a move to do anything about it, Mikleo is already standing in front of him again, violet gaze dark.

A cool hand comes up to caress his face, and Sorey leans into the touch. “I told you already, I know what I signed up for,” comes Mikleo’s voice as the pad of his thumb traces over Sorey’s lips. “Do you?”

Sorey shivers, but makes no motion to move away. He’s known what he’s wanted for a long time now. “You,” he says against Mikleo’s thumb, bringing his hands up to unbutton Mikleo’s vest. “I want you.”

The thumb against his mouth slides away, only to be replaced by Mikleo’s mouth crashing into his. With a soft moan, Sorey wraps an arm around Mikleo’s waist and places his free hand behind Mikleo’s head, tugging him closer. It feels like an eternity before their lips pull apart, but they stay close, breaths mingling and mouths barely centimeters apart.

“We...should move,” Mikleo whispers, licking his lips, his gaze still focused on Sorey’s tie. “That is, if we can stay up here—”

“No one will even notice we’re gone.” Sorey brushes his nose against Mikleo’s, effectively getting his attention. “Are you sure you don’t need help finishing what you started?”

Mikleo scoffs, then leans up to press his lips briefly against Sorey’s again. “I should be asking you that question,” he murmurs teasingly against Sorey’s mouth. “Are you going to take all day with my vest?”

A soft growl erupts from the back of Sorey’s throat at the challenge as he rapidly unbuttons the vest and slides it off Mikleo’s shoulders. He palms at Mikleo’s chest, trying to feel his skin through the thin fabric of his shirt, all while stumbling backwards with the force of Mikleo’s hands against his biceps. They collapse onto the bed, Mikleo straddling Sorey while unbuttoning his own shirt, grinding their hips together as he unclasps his buttons slowly, one by one.

“...Mikleo.” Sorey finds himself struggling to form a coherent sentence. The sight of the silver-haired man on top of him, eyes clouded over with intent, deft fingers peeling away layers of cloth and replacing them with pale, milky skin...it’s all too much for him to take. His fingers itch for something to do, and so he brings them up to his own chest, struggling to peel his shirt off as well. He almost regrets the suspenders as they press heavily into the fabric and keep his shirt in place, doing their job too well for his impatient hands to counter.

“Easy,” comes Mikleo’s voice suddenly in his ear, low and soft. “Let me take care of you.”

He can feel Mikleo’s breath, warm against his skin, and it sends a shiver racing through his entire body. He lets his hands fall slack as Mikleo finishes the job, untucking the shirt and slipping it out from under the suspenders. The mouth against his ear is extremely distracting, especially when it teasingly nips at his earlobe, but Sorey can’t help but raise an eyebrow, bringing his hands up to rest on Mikleo’s waist to re-focus his attention.

“I thought you didn’t like the suspenders,” he says, confused. “I thought you would’ve wanted them off before everything else.”

Mikleo detaches himself from Sorey’s ear and meets his gaze, eyes unabashedly roaming over the dips and planes of Sorey’s chest. “I said they were charming,” he replies coolly, running his fingers down the two belts. “But you have a point. Right now, they’re just in the way.”

Before Sorey’s foggy mind can come up with another question, Mikleo slides his hands up and tugs the suspenders down Sorey’s shoulders. The brunet just barely manages to bring his hands up and through the belts before his body goes slack at the sudden touch of Mikleo’s finger against one of his nipples.

“Better,” Mikleo murmurs as he presses down on it harder, bringing his other hand up to pinch Sorey’s other nipple. Sorey bites back a moan and arches his body upwards, the strain in his pants almost unbearable at this point. Mikleo seems to notice, however, as he slides his hands down Sorey’s chest and begins to fiddle with his belt buckle, eager to get Sorey’s pants off.

“Faster, Mikleo, please—”

“Patience, Sorey.” Mikleo smiles up at him through half-lidded eyes, pausing only to press a teasing hand against the bulge in his pants. He lowers his head to Sorey’s chest, not once breaking eye contact as he leans down to lick a nipple.

The feeling of Mikleo’s tongue against the sensitive peak makes Sorey let out a soft cry—he brings a hand up to cup the back of the silver-haired man’s head, holding him in place. “M-more,” he manages to say through gritted teeth.

Mikleo answers by placing his mouth around Sorey’s nipple and swirling his tongue around it, reveling in the way the body beneath him tenses at the touch. Finally relenting, he uses his lips to tug at the peak, sucking harder when Sorey lets out a groan of satisfaction.

He lingers there for a few more moments before moving on to the other nipple, this time flicking his tongue against it while tugging Sorey’s pants and boxers down his legs. The brunet relinquishes his grip on Mikleo’s head in favour of using his arms to slide further back until he is leaning against the headboard, Mikleo in his lap, mouth still firmly attached to his chest.

“Mikleo, your pants,” he heaves, then lets out another soft cry when Mikleo bites down while pinching the other nipple. He pulls away, a soft smile playing upon his lips as he leans down to give both of Sorey’s nipples a quick, gentle kiss. Then, he brings his hands to his own waist, slipping his fingers into the waistband of his pants.

“Help me out, Sorey,” he says, and the brunet moves in without hesitation, fingers fumbling with Mikleo’s belt and tossing it aside before unbuttoning the clasp. Mikleo does the rest, sliding the pants off his legs and discarding them on the floor along with his underwear. Then, he presses his body flush against Sorey’s from calf to chest, letting out a shaky groan at the shared warmth of their skin and the hardness between them.

It’s Sorey who makes the first move this time, placing a hand under Mikleo’s chin and tilting it upwards, pulling him into a searing kiss that is all but desperate. He wants release,  _ craves _ it, but he also wants to appreciate the body pressed against his; a body he’s seen clothed in the finest suits, week after week for months on end, now laid bare before him. 

“I never thought I’d get to see you like this,” he breathes into the space between their mouths as they separate, slipping his hand up to rest against Mikleo’s cheek. “I didn’t realize how much I’d wanted this until now...how much I’ve wanted this for for so long…”

Mikleo presses a kiss against his jaw, effectively silencing him. “I’ve wanted this too, you know,” he says simply, lips curving into a smile against Sorey’s skin. “All those weeks I spent taking your measurements, seeing the way you filled out every shirt I fitted you with…” He chuckles softly, breathlessly. “It was unbearable.”

“Are you saying you only want me for my body?” Sorey teases, laughing lightly when Mikleo slaps his side in protest. Moments later, however, the same fingers slowly trail up and down his skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

“Do you think I’d do this with every customer that walks into my store?” Mikleo whispers into his ear, making a shiver run down his spine. “It’s more than that. I want all of you, Sorey, I need—”

Sorey kisses him again, wet and needy. “I love you,” he gasps as Mikleo ruts against him slowly, tantalizingly. The feeling of skin against skin is searingly hot, and the brunet grunts as he bucks his hips forward into Mikleo’s. He is rewarded with a soft, breathy cry, Mikleo placing his hands on Sorey’s shoulders and arching his back to get a better angle.

“...me too, S-Sorey… _ ah _ ...” Mikleo lets out a moan as he increases his pace, sliding against Sorey urgently. “I love you, I love all of you…please, I need more.”

The sight of Mikleo’s desperation encourages Sorey to lean forward, trailing his tongue up a slender chest and fastening his mouth against one of Mikleo’s nipples. He sucks hard while continuing to thrust his hips forward over and over again, until finally, Mikleo lets out a shuddery breath, wetness filling the space between their bodies. The feeling of it against Sorey’s skin sends him over the edge, and he muffles his cry against Mikleo’s chest as he comes.

They collapse onto the bed, their chests heaving with exertion. Mikleo brings his hands up to lazily run them through Sorey’s hair, laughing when his fingers get caught in the messy tangles atop his head.

“Even after dressing up, you really couldn’t be bothered to comb your hair?” he asks with a soft huff, tossing his bangs lightly. “Good grooming is just as attractive as good clothing, you know.”

“Didn’t stop you from falling in love with me anyway, apparently,” Sorey chuckles, brushing his nose against Mikleo’s. “Must’ve been my rugged good looks.”

Mikleo makes a face, but leans down to kiss Sorey again anyway. “Maybe,” he admits softly once they pull apart. “But if one thing’s for sure, it definitely wasn’t the suspenders.”

**Author's Note:**

> You know my kinks not my story


End file.
